


A Smuggler's Tale

by EarthboundJedi



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: (i did not expect there to already be a tag for this), Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, note to self: update the tags as we go along, the au that literally no one asked for but i'm doing it anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-10 08:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15288099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthboundJedi/pseuds/EarthboundJedi
Summary: In the age of the Empire, sometimes the best way to get something done is through illegal means. Sometimes it's the only way.And sometimes, if your name is Jim Lake, you end up on a grand adventure you never asked for.(AU where I take nearly everyone from Arcadia and drop them into a Galaxy far, far away. Story starts a few years before the events of A New Hope, during roughly the same time frame as Star Wars Rebels)





	1. The Dawn of Daylight

**Author's Note:**

> Really, it was only a matter of time before my brain decided this AU was a thing I should do. ~~We'll see if this actually turns out okay or if it ends up crashing and burning spectacularly. But I have high hopes. And a plan. At least for now.~~
> 
> I'll try to update the tags more as we go along - I don't want to reveal too much about the plot ahead of time ;) If a character hasn't appeared in the tags yet, it's most likely because their appearance in the story is still a few chapters out.
> 
> Also, as this is a Star Wars AU, some of the characters from that universe will be making cameos throughout the story - sometimes it'll be brief, sometimes a little more extensive. But I'm not planning on ever including them in the tags, just because this is primarily a Trollhunters fic. So. Yeah.  
>  ~~I'm also going to attempt to actually name my chapters, so I apologize in advance because a lot of them are probably going to be horribly cheesy~~

“So, what are we having tonight? The usual?”

“Not today, Vendel,” Jim sighed as he settled into a stool at the bar. “Just dropped off a shipment at Jabba’s, so my head's already reeling with whatever concoction I had to graciously accept there.”

The usually grouchy bartender chuckled, “Perhaps some blue milk, then?”

“Yes, please.”

Vendel busied himself under the counter then set a glass of the Tatooine staple in front of Jim.

“What do I owe you?”

“Nothing. This one's on the house.”

“Really? Vendel, you don't have to do that, you know I'll pay.”

“I know. You're also the only being in here that ever bothers to hold a conversation with me.”

“What can I say?” Jim grinned, flashing a toothy smile across the counter, “I'm a people person.”

“A rare quality amongst this lot,” the wizened bartender gestured at the other patrons. Most were keeping to the shadows at their respective tables as they nursed their drinks, though some were doing the stereotypically rowdy things one always sees at a bar while others were clustered around a holonet screen, eagerly looking for the next round of job postings. They were the vagabonds and scum of the Galaxy, the bounty hunters and the smugglers, the type of people who would rip out their own heart and sell it in an instant if the right price were offered (and they could still live to enjoy the payout).

And Jim was one of them.

And yet, at the same time, _nothing_ like them.

(And yes, he was aware of how _horribly_ clichéd the whole matter was.)

Vendel was talking again, “So is that how you do it? Continue to slip through the Imperial inspections, I mean,” he said in a lowered voice. “By using your people skills?”

“Something like that,” Jim smirked, taking a swig of the blue milk. “When you talk to people like you've got nothing to hide, they tend to assume you're not hiding anything.”

“I don't believe that is typically the case, judging by what I hear the other smugglers complain about on a daily basis.”

“Hey now,” Jim chuckled, “no need to go announcing my profession to the world.”

“You're joking, right?” Vendel laughed, “I’m sure the only people who _don't_ know are those bucketheads I keep seeing on the streets nowadays. And those guys in the uniforms that always look like they have a blaster stuck up their ass.” There was a loud crashing sound as a tray of glassware shattered on the other side of the room. “Damn,” the bartender muttered, “just _once_ I'd like to make it one shift without cleaning up some nerfherder’s clumsy mess…” he left to investigate the disturbance, leaving Jim alone at the bar to nurse his drink.

Though with as popular as the Mos Eisley Cantina was, he wasn't alone for long; a human - who was already intoxicated, judging by his lack of coordination - stumbled up to the bar and claimed the seat right next to Jim. The man was clutching a worn jacket close to his chest in a poor attempt to hide his blaster. Obviously he was new in town; weapons here were as plentiful as the cantina’s greasy appetizers, and all the regulars knew it.

“What’re ya lookin’ at, kid?” he growled at Jim, his words slightly slurred.

“Oh, nothing, just seeing who I have the pleasure of sitting next to this evening.”

“I came 'ere for a drink, boy, not a convershashion.” The man gave Jim an annoyed glare before visibly searching for the bartender.

“Unfortunately for you,” Jim smirked, “the bartender's gone to clean up a mess. So until he gets back you're stuck with me and my _conversation._ ”

Now, a _smart_ man would never antagonize a drunkard with a blaster; that was a surefire way to end up on the floor with a sizzling hole in your chest. Jim Lake, however, was _not_ a smart man.

But he _was_ , however, a lucky man. Which always seemed to save him from all the terribly dangerous situations he had a habit of recklessly getting himself into.

Situations just like this one.

The man at the bar clumsily grabbed for his blaster, “I _said_ , I didn't come here ta talk.”

Jim's finger twitched over his own blaster, loosely holstered at his side. If it came down to it, Jim knew his reflexes were more than a match for the stranger next to him. But, as luck would have it, a third party came up behind the man and put a firm hand on his shoulder to intervene.

“Hey now, I don't think you really want to be waving that thing around.”

The man whirled to look at the newcomer. “ _Solo_ ,” he spat, “Maybe I oughta shoot you, too. Heard Jabba wasn't too pleased with yer last run.”

Solo immediately went on the defensive, “Hey, even _I_ get boarded by Imperials sometimes!” Jim had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as the other smuggler continued. “But obviously you're still new enough 'round here that you don't know the ropes yet. You see,” he gestured over at Jim, “this here happens to be Jim Lake, Jabba's favorite smuggler. Kid _always_ delivers. Makes the rest of us look bad. But if you so much as touch a hair on that pretty little head of his, Jabba’ll toss you to the Rancor faster than you can say ' _Bantha poodoo’_.”

The stranger narrowed his eyes at Jim. “ _Lake_ , huh? What, were you born on Mon Cala or something?”

“Ryloth, actually,” Jim coolly replied.

“Funny, you don't look like a tailhead.”

“And _you_ don't look like a moof-milker, yet here we are.”

“Okay you two, that's _enough_ ,” Solo interjected. “ _You_ ,” he addressed the stranger, “should leave now. Before someone decides to use you for target practice.”

Grumbling and muttering under his breath, the stranger slid off his stool and staggered away towards the door.

Solo then turned to Jim, “When are you gonna learn to be more careful, kid?”

This time, Jim let his eyes roll as he took another swig of his drink. “You know, Han, I haven't been a 'kid’ for a few years now.”

“Don't care. You'll always be a kid to me,” he scowled. “You're lucky I was here tonight.”

“I am,” Jim flashed him an obnoxiously large smile. “Though I _totally_ had everything under control.”

“Mmhhhmm. Sure ya did.”

“I did!”

“Whatever,” now it was Solo’s turn to roll his eyes. “Well, as pleasant as this was, I gotta go prep the Falcon for another run.”

“Do you need help? I'm between jobs right now, so I could -”

“ _No_. I've already got a copilot, you'd just get in my way,” he frowned.

“Fine, just thought I'd offer. Try not to get boarded this time,” Jim smirked as the (slightly) more seasoned smuggler started making his way towards the entrance.

“And _you_ try not to get yourself killed,” Solo winked before heading up the steps.

As Jim turned his attention back to his drink, Vendel reappeared behind the bar.

“So, what did I miss?”

* * *

Jim closed the main hatch of the _Daylight_ , sealing up the ship for the night. He followed the familiar path down the halls of the modified Nubian light freighter, making his way to his sleeping quarters. The ship had enough room to comfortably accommodate a crew of five, but for now Jim was its only inhabitant. Well, one of two if he also counted his astromech, DR4-4L.

“Draal, I'm back!” he announced. With a whirring sound, the light blue dome of the astromech appeared from around a corner. “Did you figure out what's going on with that one stabilizer?”

Draal emitted a series of grunts, clicks, and whistles.

“Alright, _alright_ , no need to get your wires crossed! I'll see if I can scrounge up that part tomorrow. Anything else we need? We got a little extra from this last job for being two days early, so we might as well restock some of the spares.”

The droid grunted a few more times and buzzed.

“Hm, that might be hard to come by, especially out here. But I might be able to find a decent substitute to last us until we're on a planet with proper Nubian parts.”

Draal whined at Jim.

“Hey, I'm not happy about it either, but I'd rather mix and match parts instead of getting stranded somewhere without our hyperdrive,” Jim retorted, placing his hands on his hips.

Conceding, Draal gave a little chirp before wheeling away.

Jim had salvaged the DR4 unit - or 'Draal’, as he had fondly named it - from some Clone Wars era-starfighters that had crashed near his childhood home on Ryloth. Granted, Jim had only been five years old when the Clone Wars ended, so a couple years passed before his mom had even let him go anywhere near the wreckage. By the time he discovered the droid hanging out of one of the cockpits in low power mode, the astromech’s right leg had become completely corroded. So he did what any curious seven-year-old would do: took the droid home, cleaned it up, and gave it a new leg. Thankfully, Draal never seemed to mind that the replacement leg was mustard-yellow in color and from a completely different model of astromech - in fact, Jim had offered multiple times since then to find a proper replacement, but each time Draal would simply grunt in annoyance and wheel away.

Despite the droid’s cantankerous nature, the two of them made a pretty good team. Not that Jim would ever dream of parting with Draal - it was one of two things he still had from his home planet.

Arriving at his sleeping quarters, he closed the door, kicked off his boots, and placed his blaster on the bedside table before collapsing onto his cot. Jim unfastened a small, metal disk the size of his palm from his bandolier and turned the heirloom over in his hands, watching as the mix of silver and light-blue metals seemingly glowed in the dim lighting.

With a sigh, Jim set the amulet aside and pulled out a small journal from under his pillow. Finding his page, he uncapped his pen and scrawled:

_Crait - nothing but salt._

Closing the journal, he slid it back under his pillow and picked up the amulet. With a little twist, it opened up to reveal a couple of chambers inside, similar to a locket. On one side he'd affixed a portrait, on paper, of a young Twi'lek woman with cloudy blue skin and fiery red lekku.

He tenderly ran his finger along the edge of the photo.

“I'm still looking, Mom. I'm going to find you. I promise.”


	2. Spice Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because all the cool smugglers go to Kessel. Obviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. This update was looooong overdue. Such are the perils of having more than one WIP and also having to be a mostly-functional adult with a job and stuff. Heh.
> 
> ~~I would also like to formally apologize for that chapter title. It was the first thing that came to mind. I only mildly regret it.~~

“C’mon, Draal, get your servos in gear!” Jim shouted from the cockpit of the  _ Daylight _ . “We're making the Kessel run today and I want to beat the next wave of hyperspace traffic!”

Draal wheeled in from the hall and beeped at him.

“ _ No _ . We are  _ not _ cutting through the heart of the maelstrom. The normal route may be tedious, but it’s not nearly as risky.”

The astromech whirred in response as it started programming the navigation computer.

“Look, the odds of us making it past the occasional Imperial patrol are much better than our chances in the Maw - even  _ I'm _ not stupid enough to tangle with that cluster of black holes.”

Draal whirred again, this time a little more forcefully.

“Oh,  _ now _ I get it. You want to try to beat Solo's record, you competitive little droid,” Jim rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Well that ain't happening, not while I'm piloting this ship. I am not risking the  _ Daylight _ over some silly record that only five people care about.”

He could have sworn he’d heard Draal cackle lowly. But Jim’s attention was quickly distracted by all of the  _ Daylight's  _ displays suddenly coming to life.

“Draal!” Jim shouted over the hum of the engines firing up, “I  _ swear _ , if you so much as lift this ship one foot off the ground I will wipe your memory banks!”

The droid paused and gave Jim a wary beep.

“Oh yeah?” he smirked, “How would  _ you _ know? It's not like you’d remember.”

Somewhat alarmed, Draal relinquished control of the ship back to Jim.

Chuckling, he resumed his pre-flight checks. “Alright… Fuel gages, check. Power couplers, check. Deflector shields… check. Okay, buddy,” he swiveled around to look at Draal, “I think we're about ready for take off. Got those coordinates in the navicomputer?”

Draal beeped in agreement.

“And it's the usual run?  _ Shortcut-free? _ ”

Again, Draal beeped, this time a little solemnly.

“Good. Let's get airborne.” Jim engaged the engines and began guiding the  _ Daylight _ off the ground and through the opening of the hangar. Leaving the sandy, miserable surface of Tatooine below them, Jim was already dreading their return. Despite spending the better portion of the past few years on the desert planet, he refused to think of it as any sort of home. No… his home planet would always be Ryloth, with its magnificent landscapes and lush jungles. But even Ryloth wasn't really his home, not anymore; for what good is a home if there's nothing to return to?

Sighing, he lightly touched the amulet affixed to his bandolier.

_ Someday. _

Returning his attention to the window of the cockpit, he watched the horizon of Tatooine disappear and give way to the never ending expanse of space. He punched a couple of keys on the console in front of him before calling out to Draal, “Ready to jump to hyperspace?”

Draal beeped in affirmation, and Jim heard the sound of the droid’s feet magnetizing and locking onto the floor of the ship (after all, traveling faster than the speed of light had a tendency to cause things to shift during flight, such as cargo or unsuspecting astromechs).

“Alright then, let's punch it!”

The stars in the viewport morphed into long streaks stretching out before them as the  _ Daylight  _ accelerated, completely leaving Tatooine behind and slipping into hyperspace. As soon as the  _ Daylight  _ reached a constant velocity, Jim relaxed his grip on the controls and let the ship’s autopilot take over. Pulling out his datapad from one of the compartments next to him, he began scrolling through the encrypted list of items he was scheduled to retrieve from Kessel, cross-referencing the list with what Jabba had verbally told him the day before.

“Wow, one metric ton of spice,” Jim whistled, running a hand over his hair. “Draal, we’ve got all the ‘special’ cargo holds cleared out, right?”

The droid gurgled in agreement.

“Good. With such a large haul, I think we might actually fill up all the hidden compartments this time.”

Like any decent smuggler, Jim had taken it upon himself to outfit the  _ Daylight  _ with a series of hidden cargo holds to make it easier to get goods past the watchful eye of the Empire. Jim, however, had gone a step further and installed secret compartments inside  _ those _ compartments, giving him a leg up over other smugglers. And some really good places to crawl in and hide, should the need ever arise.

“On the bright side,” he commented as he continued scanning the list, “we’ll be able to carry the cooking spices out in the open. Though it looks like we’ll have a lot of that, too...”

Draal wheeled closer to Jim and made a whirring sound.

Jim rolled his eyes, “We have plenty of cargo space, you know that. I’m more worried about getting it onboard in a timely manner.” Reclining in his chair, Jim propped his feet up on a section of the control console that was free of buttons and levers. “It’s gonna be a while ‘til we get there, so you might as well go make sure your power levels are topped off. I’ll holler if anything comes up.”

The droid grunted before rolling off to find a charging port, leaving Jim alone in the cockpit. Sighing, he tapped a few icons on his datapad to bring up a different list. He’d managed to intercept this particular file while he was hanging around the Cantina - you would have thought the owners of the information would be more careful about how, and where, their data was being transmitted.

_ Let’s see… there was a Zygerrian ship dropping off a “shipment” on Kessel two rotations ago. And there’s another one scheduled tomorrow. _

_ Maybe this time I’ll finally get a lead... _

Jim sunk further back in his chair, watching the stars streak past the viewport, his hand resting on his amulet. It was at times like this when he felt extremely small in a very,  _ very  _ big Galaxy. He'd lost count of how many tales he'd overhead in cantinas and dive bars across the Outer Rim, tales of people who had spent their entire lives searching the Galaxy for some sort of thing or purpose, doomed to never find what they were looking for. Only a lucky few ever seemed to end up on the right side of fate. And nowadays that number was even fewer - the Empire effectively made sure of that. Which meant his own personal quest was insanely unlikely to succeed; a depressing thought, to say the least.

But he wouldn't give up. Not yet. He  _ couldn't.  _ He had this… feeling. A feeling that, somehow, everything was about to change.

Suddenly, Jim was startled by a mechanical grumbling behind him. “EeaaAAHH!!” he shouted as he jumped up in his chair. “ _ Karabast _ , Draal! Why do you always sneak up on me like that?”

The droid chuckled and whirred, shining a light from one of its optical sensors onto Jim's datapad.

“Hey, cut it out! That's not - !”

Draal did its best imitation of an eye-roll, beeping and waving one of its retractable appendages in the air.

“Oh, don't you lecture me!” Jim retorted. “You know as well as I do that Kessel is a hub for slave labor transactions.”

Draal whistled lowly.

“... And 'mining accidents’, I  _ know _ !” Jim got to his feet and put one hand on his hip. “But I have to try. It's been  _ years _ , Draal, and I haven’t gotten anywhere!”

The droid grumbled at him sarcastically.

“You know what I mean,” he sighed, glancing down at his amulet.

Draal made a sympathetic whining sound, followed by a sharp series of beeps.

“I know, I know, she's probably not on the planet. But maybe there will be someone there who's seen her.”

Draal whistled skeptically.

Jim patted Draal on the top of its dome and returned to watching the navigation screens. “Trust me, buddy, I've got a good feeling about it this time.”

* * *

“ _ Daylight, _ you are clear for landing at pad Bravo-Three,” a metallic voice hissed over the comms.

“Copy that,” Jim acknowledged, guiding his ship over to the assigned landing zone. The engines hummed as he brought the  _ Daylight _ closer to the surface, and he felt a slight jostle shake the cabin once he set the ship down on the ground. Landings on planets like Kessel were pretty routine; it was the smaller planets that tended to be a little more tricky, as the weaker gravitational pull could easily cause pilots to bounce off the surface and back into outer space. He was somewhat ashamed to admit he'd learned that scientific tidbit the hard way. More than once.

Jim stood up from his pilot’s seat and stretched out his back, “Alright, Draal, showtime. You stay here and watch the ship, I'll go talk to the Pykes and see where our cargo’s at.” He grabbed a comm-link and made sure it was securely in his ear, “I'll let you know when I find something.”

Draal teasingly grunted in response.

“Hey, I'm not  _ planning  _ on finding trouble! It just always seems to have a way of finding  _ me _ ,” he winked, making sure his blaster was holstered at his hip. “I'll be back soon,” he waved in a mock-salute as he made his way to the boarding ramp and out of the ship. Outside, he found one of the members of the Pyke Syndicate waiting for him, regarding him with a pair of narrow eyes that seemed altogether too small for a being with such a large skull.

“Aahh, young Lake,” the Pyke rasped. “We have been expecting you.”

“I would sure hope so,” Jim smirked. “Or I’d have a very unhappy Hutt on my hands once I get back to Tatooine.”

The Pyke ignored Jim’s attempt at humor, “We are honored that the esteemed Hutt family continues to utilize our products.” Jim struggled to conceal his eye roll as the Pyke continued, “Please, if you would follow me this way…”

Jim walked behind the Pyke into the entrance of the complex, following the humanoid being down a series of corridors and tunnels that led to the storage areas. As they passed by branches in the tunnel, he could make out the sound of pickaxes, clanking metal, and grinding machinery echoing from deeper within the mine. One could almost be fooled into thinking it sounded like a legitimate mining operation, except for the hard-to-ignore undertone of rattling chains that accompanied the sound of the labor.

It made Jim’s stomach churn.

Eventually the path opened up into a large cavern, with guards stationed near the entryways and various security cameras installed throughout the room. After all, the contents of the room were as expensive as they were illegal. The Pyke that had been guiding him gestured to one of the far walls, where a miniature fleet of maglev carts sat filled to the brim with small, rectangular containers. “Jabba’s metric ton of spice,” it stated.

Jim nodded in acknowledgement. “And the cooking spices...?”

“Are elsewhere in the complex. I will take you there once you have handled the more  _ sensitive _ cargo.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, surveying the carts.  _ Kriff, that's a lot of spice. The things I do to keep Jabba happy... _ Jim tapped the comm-link in his ear, “Draal, you there, buddy?”

He got a garbled series of beeps back in response; of course there wouldn’t be great reception inside the mine, but he hoped it was at least enough to get a brief conversation through.

“I’m looking at ten carts full of spice, and that’s just the, uh,  _ special _ stuff. It’s going to take me quite a few trips to get all this out to the ship. Unless I can get some help…” he trailed off.

_ Now  _ there’s _ a thought. And a great excuse to do a little socializing with the local labor force. _

“Gotta go, buddy,” he interrupted Draal’s attempt at some sort of protest, “I’ll see ya soon.” He switched off his communicator and quickly scanned his surroundings. As he suspected, the representative from the Pyke Syndicate was still lurking in the entryway of the room.

_ Time to turn on the charm. _

“Excuse me,” Jim started, approaching the Pyke, “it’s going to take me a long time to move these carts all by myself. Any way I could get some help with these?”

“You know how we operate here,” the Pyke rasped, “the mine workers work in the mine. They do not assist with pick-up or deliveries.”

“I know, I know!” Jim held his hands up in a non-confrontational manner. “It’s just, well, Jabba seemed  _ really _ eager to get this shipment delivered as soon as possible. And I’d hate to be the one to disappoint  _ Jabba the Hutt _ ,” he pointedly made eye contact with the Pyke, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a slight smile.

“Oh, well… shall I send for some droids to assist?”

“No, thank you. The  _ last  _ time your droids helped me, they didn’t put the goods where I told them to and my entire mission was nearly compromised,” he frowned. That statement wasn’t  _ entirely  _ truthful. But the Pyke didn’t know that, and Jim had an ulterior motive at the moment. “I would much prefer the help of sentient beings,” Jim paused to dramatically raise one of his eyebrows, “perhaps a couple of slaves?”

The Pyke’s eyes widened, “That is a highly unusual request. And it violates many of our regulations. I cannot -”

“Please. Send for a couple of slaves to help me haul the spice.”

“I… will send for a couple of slaves to help you haul the spice,” the Pyke conceded, turning and wandering away from the chamber.

Satisfied, Jim placed his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. He’d never understand why other smugglers always chose to think with their blasters first - usually he found that people could be pretty reasonable if you just talked to them.

Well…  _ most _ of the time.

As Jim circled the carts of spice, triple-checking that they weren't trying to short him, the Pyke came back with two figures in tow. Literally. The first, an abnormally tall Wookie, looked like it could probably snap its shackles off with a well-placed sneeze. It appeared to be covered in a carpet of stone-grey fur with patches of mossy green along its shoulders and head, though the dust from the mines was doing its best attempt to hide the Wookie’s identifying features. The second figure, trailing behind, slowly became more visible as the Wookie was led further into the room and out of the way, revealing a stout, stocky, orange-skinned... Twi’lek.

_ Wait. _

_ No. _

_ It can't be. _

_ Is that…? _

Jim’s eyes went wide as he exchanged a glance of recognition with the Twi’lek, followed by an immediate policing of his expression so as to not alert the Pyke.

_ Tobes. _

Jim’s stomach sank somewhere below his feet.

During his early years, Jim had been extremely close with one of his next-door neighbors on Ryloth - Tobias Domzalski. Born only a few months apart, the two had become practically inseparable as soon as they could barely toddle across the floor. They did  _ everything _ together: exploring the nearby jungle, spelunking through wreckage from the Clone Wars, tinkering in Jim’s little workshop, you name it. Though, in retrospect, most of their activities involved Jim doing something mildly dangerous and Tobes choosing to watch from a safe distance away. But the best (and most important) part was simply getting to spend time together; the two were practically brothers.

Since leaving Ryloth, Jim had always hoped he'd get to see Tobes again one day.

But not like this.

_ Definitely _ not like this.

Jim felt shaky, like all his limbs were about to quit working properly at the same time. But now wasn’t the time to collapse or freak out or anything like that. No... now was the time to  _ do _ something.

He mentally steadied himself and cleared his throat. “You know,” he addressed the Pyke, being particularly careful to avoid staring at his childhood friend, “these two won’t be much help all shackled up like that. How are they supposed to move carts if they can barely walk?”

“They can move well enough,” the Pyke replied, narrowing its eyes.

“But not fast enough for me. Please, remove their restraints.”

“I…” the Pyke started, temporarily at a loss for words, “... No. I cannot.”

“Yes, you can.  _ Please _ , remove their restraints.”

The Pyke glared at Jim, as if suddenly seeing through his air of bravado, “ _ No _ . I will not. Continue to make demands, _ young  _ Lake, and I will ensure you are escorted from the premises immediately. And recommend to Jabba that he find a new smuggler.”

_ Whoops. Too far. _

“I’m sorry, I… I don’t know what came over me,” Jim immediately apologized, knowing full well that the Pykes would swiftly follow through on such a threat. Feigning a headache, he continued, “The fumes in here must be getting to my head. The sooner I can get back to my ship for some fresh air, the better.”

“Indeed. I suggest you retrieve some sort of respirator while you are there,” the Pyke sneered. It pointed at Tobes and the Wookie, then at the carts of spice, “You two. Help this  _ boy _ get this spice onto his ship.”

“I’m _ not _ a boy,” Jim muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, just clearing my throat.”

“Very well.” The Pyke turned its attention back to Tobes and the Wookie, “I expect you will be on your best behavior. Unless you would like to take another trip to the reconditioning facility.” Both of them lowered their eyes and solemnly nodded in response. “Good. I have other business I must attend to, but I shall return within the hour to check on your progress.”

Jim nodded and immediately turned to Tobes and the giant Wookie, not wanting to give the Pykes any reason to suspect he might be up to something. “Alright, then. Grab as much as you can, and we’ll head back to my ship.”

Each of them claimed a spice cart and started pushing their haul out into the main corridor. It really was a shame that Tobes and the Wookie were still restrained - on his own, the hulking Wookie looked like he could have easily moved two carts at once if he had his full range of motion.

Not to mention the restraints would also make it a little more difficult to smuggle them out of here.

As they made their way out to his ship, Jim was already scheming up ways to free Tobes and the Wookie (he  _ really _ should find out what the Wookie's name is). Getting them onboard his ship would be the easy part; after all, they were helping him load the spice onto it. But surely there were a myriad of safeguards he would have to identify and eliminate before they could actually leave the planet. He'd never known a member of the Pyke Syndicate to allow a slave, valuable or not, to slip away. But at least he had a little time to formulate some sort of haphazard plan - there was no way he could leave before all the spice was loaded onto his ship, not unless he wanted to be made into Jabba’s slave himself (and, of course, he had his spotless smuggling record to uphold).

Jim blinked as they exited the dim mining compound and stepped out into the light, the  _ Daylight _ gleaming on its landing pad across the way. Noticing the Wookie, who had been in the front of their miniature caravan, had stopped, Jim pointed to his ship and called out, “Mine’s the Nubian freighter, over there on the far platform.”

“Sorry, which one?” Tobes quietly asked, still trying to act as if he didn’t know Jim.

“The really shiny one.”

“Whoah,” he heard Tobes whisper in awe.

Jim couldn’t help but smile with pride - not only was the  _ Daylight  _ shiny, it was a downright gorgeous ship (then again, that tended to be the standard for most things that came from Naboo). The entire exterior was plated in a silvery-metallic finish that was as durable as it was reflective. It had an aerodynamically sleek design, made of mostly smooth curves with sharp, pointed edges in just the right spots along its leading edges. And the array of engines along the sweeping wings, a mix of pre-installed hardware and Jim’s own handiwork, ensured the  _ Daylight _ was the fastest, most maneuverable ship this side of the Galaxy. Flashy? Yes. Pretty much impossible to fly under the radar?  _ Hell  _ yes. But Jim wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Wookie grunted in acknowledgement when he laid eyes on he ship and started moving again, pushing his cart of spice over the open space between them and the boarding ramp of the _ Daylight _ . There, waiting for Jim's return, was an extremely disgruntled Draal.

“Whoah there, buddy, they're with me,” Jim explained as they walked up. “Let them pass, and show them the way to the cargo hold.”

Grumbling, Draal wheeled into the ship and out of sight.

“We’re going to start by filling up the aft cargo bay,” Jim commented as the trio made their way up the boarding ramp. “Just follow the sound of the grumpy astromech and you’ll find it.” He waited for Tobes and the Wookie to push their carts inside before bringing up the rear. Glancing quickly at the rest of the landing area, Jim pressed a discreet button just inside the door of the  _ Daylight _ before following them further into the ship; any local communications near his ship were now scrambled, which meant he could talk freely with his childhood best friend.

Temporarily abandoning his cart of spice, Jim rushed around it so that he could bear hug the orange Twi’lek. “Tobes!” he exclaimed. “By Force, I can’t believe it’s you!”

“I can’t believe it either,” he said dryly, giving Jim a wary sideways glance.

“Don’t worry, we can talk freely here and no one will hear us,” he grinned. “I’ve made a few modifications to the ship.”

He instantly felt Tobes relax and sink deeper into their hug. “Only a  _ few _ , Jimbo?” he joked.

“Well, you know,” Jim winked, pulling back so that he could actually see Tobes’s face. “I…  _ wow _ , I have so many questions! How long have you been here? And how long have you -?”

“Been a slave?” he finished Jim’s question. “Yeah, this is kind of a recent development. A couple rotations ago, those Zygerrian scum came back to Ryloth,” he hissed. “Apparently they thought I would make a good laborer, now that I’m older. Well, the joke’s on them - as you well know, I suck at manual labor,” he chuckled darkly. “But hey, how about you? What's it been, like, five years?”

“Ten, actually.”

“ _ Kriff, seriously? _ It's been  _ that _ long?”

“Yeah.”

Tobes whistled lowly. “Wow. So, what have you been up to? How did you manage to get free?”

“I… I was never enslaved to begin with, Tobes,” he admitted.

“Wait,  _ what?! _ ” Tobes stared at him in shock. “But… the Zygerrians! They stormed your house! Both you and your mom were gone! I thought - we  _ all  _ thought -”

“They didn’t get me.” Jim took a deep breath before continuing, “When my mom saw them coming, she told me to hide in my workshop - you remember, the hidden room underneath our house? So the Zygerrians never found me. Only my mother. But if I had known they were going to take her away…” he clenched his fists.

“Dude, there was nothing you could have done. We were only, like, ten years old,” Tobes put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, the shackles around his wrists rattling softly. “But that still doesn’t explain why we couldn’t find you afterwards.”

“That’s because I, uh... sort of ran away and tried to follow them.”

“ _ Seriously _ ?”

“Yeah... Remember that old Clone Wars starfighter I was working on restoring? I tried to follow them in that. Draal and I didn’t make it too far, we ended up crash landing on Naboo, but by then I had already lost track of the Zygerrians.”

“So then, instead of coming home, you decided to become a  _ smuggler _ ?” Tobes chided.

“I… no, I didn’t  _ decide _ to! It just sort of happened. It’s… a long story. I’ll tell you later.”

“Later? Uh, Jimbo, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he jangled his shackles in front of Jim’s face, “I don’t think there’s going to be a  _ later. _ ”

“Of course there is. Because I’m gonna bust you out of here.”

“Okay, first? That’s crazy talk,” Tobes raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Second? The instant I stray too far, all one of those Pykes has to do is press a button and this collar turns into a detonation device.”

“Hm. That would definitely complicate things.”

“Yeah,  _ ya think _ ? And third, what about Big Guy over here?” he jerked his chin in the direction of the Wookie, who, unlike the chatting duo, was helping Draal get the spice stashed away in the hidden cargo holds. “Seems wrong to leave him behind. I've only known him for a couple days, but he's practically family at this point.  Apparently being chained up together and forced to work in horrible conditions has that effect,” he joked darkly.

“Oh, we’re bringing him, too. I know another Wookie who’d I'm sure would love to meet him,” Jim mused, thinking about Solo’s friendly-yet-terrifying copilot. “By the way, do you know if he has a name?”

“Well, he doesn't talk much. But I think his name's ‘Aaarrrgghh.’ At least, that’s what I’ve been calling him. He says, er, growls it a lot.”

“Great. Let Aaarrrgghh know I'm getting you guys out of here first thing in the morning; I think I've got a plan. Or most of one, at least.”

“I'd ask what the plan is, but something tells me I don't actually want to know.”

“That's probably for the best,” Jim winked. As they unloaded the last of the spice from this round of carts, he paused to ask, “Hey, Tobes?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you…” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “have you heard anything about other Twi’lek slaves?”

“Sorry, Jimbo. They keep us pretty separated.” In a hushed tone, he added, “Trying to find your mom?”

“Yeah. Ten years, and still no sign of her.” Something about saying the words out loud had a way of weighing down his heart.

“I'm sure she'll turn up someday. Hey, maybe the slaver ship coming tomorrow will bring a clue!”

“Wait, you know about that?”

“Of course! They always threaten us to be on our best behavior right before a new group of slaves gets dropped off. How do you -? Oh, nevermind,” Tobes waved. “If I overheard correctly, the ship should be arriving at midday, so -”

“No,” Jim shook his head. “If I want to get you and Aaarrrgghh out of here, we can't wait around for the Zygerrian ship.”

“But Jim, what about your mom?”

“I can't risk losing you, too, Tobes. You're practically family.”

“Dude, stop. You're gonna make me cry.”

“Rrrwwwaaaaarrr!” Aaarrrgghh groaned behind Tobes, towering over the Twi'lek.

“Ugh, Aaarrrgghh's right, we need to get moving,” Tobes translated, “before the Pykes get suspicious.”

“Right,” Jim agreed. Before following the others out of the ship, Jim turned to Draal, “Hey buddy, do you think you could put together a map of the mining complex while you’re waiting? Stuff like security terminals, control rooms, ventilation systems, that sort of stuff.”

The astromech warbled an affirmation, its tone one-part condescending and three-parts mischievous.

“Excellent,” he grinned. “Oh, and one more thing - I’m gonna need you to disable the hyperdrive.”

Draal grunted in shock.

“Nothing too drastic,” Jim explained, trying to assuage the droid before it rolled over his feet in a fit of rage, “Just enough to give us an excuse to stay the night.”

It glared at him - an impressive feat for a droid - before wheeling off to the control room.

“Jim, you coming?” Tobes called out from the top of the boarding ramp.

“Yeah, just a sec!” he replied, briskly making his way to join them. “Just giving Draal a couple things to do while he waits for us.”

“Boy, I sure hope you know what you’re doing,” Tobes commented. Aaarrrgghh nodded nervously, agreeing with his much smaller companion.

“Don’t worry, Tobes! When have my plans ever failed?”

“Um, was that rhetorical? Or do you  _ really _ want me to answer that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all ever need me to define any Star Wars-y terms just let me know (or, you can do what I do all the time and spend way too long looking things up on Wookieepedia).
> 
> Oh, and in case any of y'all missed it, I have some doodles of what I imagine Jim and Draal to look like up [ over on my tumblr](https://earthboundpenguin.tumblr.com/post/175884641390/the-au-literally-no-one-asked-for-the-characters).
> 
> Claire should be making her appearance next, assuming the narrative I have planned doesn't get sidetracked. ~~Me? Not following my own plot plans? It's more likely than you think!~~


End file.
